


Don't Go It Alone

by Measured_Words



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Asexual Character, Crimes & Criminals, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mala Tajna, Minor Denise Murodea, Minor Evard Desprez, Organized Crime, Post Psyrene War, Post-War, Second Time, Soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/pseuds/Measured_Words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ralf's home from the war, but there's a lot of adjustments to be made as he tries to make a new life.  As long as Ander's in it, though.  That's what matters most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Go It Alone

The end of the war was chaos, tearing things apart. The machinery of war had to be disassembled, and its operators dispersed. It happened in stages. Troops stationed at stable bases were shipped back to the city, then processed, then released. They made their way home. Troops from the trenches took their places, following a few steps behind. This all required a great deal of logistical support, so that those with the greatest and the very least authority – officers, bureaucrats, mess cooks – were the last to spill back into the city. By the time Ander managed to resign his commission and catch a train home, Ralf had been in Diablotin for several weeks.

Ralf found it hard to come back. He didn’t really have a home anywhere. None of his sisters who might have been willing to take him in were able to. His mother grudgingly accepted his return, and made minimal attempts to cover her disappointment that he hadn't made something of his life by dying for his country (and thus securing her a death benefit). With no better options, he wound up staying with her until he couldn't take it anymore, and found a hole in the wall to rent not too far from the old neighborhood.

Other things were hard too – just being a civilian again was an adjustment. He had to choose his own clothes, feed himself, find things to fill his own time. No one was actively trying to kill him, but it was hard to believe it and relax. It was strange to sleep in a bed, even if it was a crappy one. The sounds at night were unfamiliar. 

The nights themselves threatened loneliness.

He thought about looking for a job, but instead he'd go to a bar, spend his days drinking, his nights with whatever woman was willing to take him home. He didn't have much to go on, to wait for, except an offer.

The first night of the armistice, he'd found himself drinking with the captain – with Ander. Just the two of them. He hadn't been sure what to expect, or what he'd hoped for. What he got was an offer to join the Mala Tajna: the not-so-secret underworld organization of House Rat. Everyone had heard of it, and he'd known for a long time that Ander was involved, that he'd joined the army after they'd made some kind of deal to keep him out of jail. Ander had said they could use a man with his skills, and that he could speak for him. Take care of him. He hadn't promised anything more.

Once Ralf had his own address back in Diablotin, he'd stopped by The Cellar. It was where Ander had told him to go, to let him know where to find him. Everyone knew what the place was, who it belonged to. He'd gone in the middle of the day, but he hadn't stayed for a drink. It wasn't his place, not yet. Maybe it could be his place, he felt, once Ander was there.

Another week and a half slipped by, and Ralf started to have doubts. Maybe he'd gotten back to the city and changed his mind. Maybe he wasn't coming back at all. Maybe he was just too busy, too important, for someone like him... A few days later, someone brought him a message, telling him to stop by The Cellar. Ander wanted to see him.

It was early evening, practically still late afternoon. The message had said to stop by anytime, but Ralf didn't want to walk into the place when it was too busy. Instead he walked in when it was almost dead. There were a few people sitting at tables, but Ralf didn't pay them much attention just yet – he saw Ander at the bar. He was smiling, chatting with the man who ran the place. He looked tense, but it was a tension Ralf recognized. The suit (civvies) he wore was nice, but it didn't seem to hang just right, as if it wasn't accounting for all the ways that three years of military service could change a man's body even if he came back whole. His hair was still short – just at regulation length. 

Ander hadn't been back long at all, but he'd already sent for him. When he looked up and saw Ralf, he smiled. It was more than just politeness – he was genuinely pleased. Happy to see him.

They ensconced themselves in one of the booths with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, and talked about life. They talked about how tricky it was to be a civilian again. It turned out Ander had barely been home three days – he was still reeling from all the changes. Ralf wondered if that was why he'd looked him up, to have someone who was sympathetic, who'd been there. He wondered about his own motivations. Was it just that the army had given him direction, and he wanted more of the same? He knew it wasn't likely he'd be working for Ander again, but he was still hoping for it, and he wasn't sure why. 

For now it was good to sit and talk. Ander offered him a smoke from his silver case, just like old times. It was hard not to call him sir, even though he'd never liked that. Even though they were both in civvies, were both civilians. Just friends, catching up. The smokes were laced with something, he said to help his nerves. He looked tired. Ralf remembered his first few days home as kind of a haze. He remembered being disappointed, angry. Lost. Ander had family and friends who were taking care of him, and that was good. But Ander had looked him up, all the same. Ralf told him he wanted to take him up on his offer, and Ander said he'd take care of that. That he'd take care of him, that he had a place now.

The Cellar started to fill as their bottle got emptier. Eventually a man called Evard who was close to their boss showed up. He was also a good friend of Ander's. When he first came in, they hugged, like that was just the thing you did with friends you hadn't seen in years, or maybe just with friends at all. He didn't have a chance to think about it much – Ralf was introduced, and that was that. Ander spoke for him. He was in, just like Ander had promised. He met a lot of people that night, but he wouldn't remember most of them until he saw them around more. Some of them asked him questions, about where he was from, how he'd met Ander. There were some other vets, but no one talked much about the war beyond asking where people had been stationed. Someone asked him about the Court, and the Triple Daggers. He thought about the old gang as he answered. He knew he wouldn’t miss them. 

He stuck close to Ander, as much as he could. That was easier than he'd expected, because Ander seemed to want to pull him into his world. Everyone there wanted to talk to him, to have a drink, and catch up. In the army, Ander hadn't had a lot of friends among the other officers, especially in the early months. It had changed more towards the end, but even then it had been nothing like this. Ralf could tell he was exhausted, stressed out despite the drugs and drink. But he was happy – happy to be home. But happy to have Ralf with him, too. Before he left for the night, Ralf pulled him aside. Thinking of Evard, he gave Ander a hug, not sure what he meant by it, or what to do with the relief he felt when Ander wrapped his arms around him in return. Ralf broke it off. Ander told him he was glad he'd come, that he would see him tomorrow. He was drunk and exhausted and smiling.

A lot of the Mala Tajna's people had been away at war. No one had expected it to last as long as it had, and those absences had been more keenly felt as one year passed into two and then into three. Those left behind had kept things running, but they hadn't had the manpower to maintain the old status quo. There was a lot to re-establish, which meant there was a lot of work for someone Ralf. It didn't feel all that different from what he'd done with the Triple Daggers. It was just a bit more structured; less spur of the moment violence. He got his orders from Evard, and mostly he didn't need to get his blades dirty, just hold them somewhere uncomfortable while someone else did the talking. Ander had other, cleaner work. People seemed to feel he'd earned it, but Ralf didn't have a sense of whether it was something he'd asked for. He was a voice, and a face. Someone for people to come and talk to if they needed a favour from the Mala Tajna. Ralf figured that when it came time to cash that in, though, it wouldn't be Ander they talked to, but maybe someone like him.

They spent a lot of their nights in The Cellar, drinking, playing cards, talking. It started to feel more real. They had more things to talk about, more to their lives than the war. Ralf felt like he'd learned more about Ander in a week than he ever had during the war. Some things he'd guessed at – some things he realized with hindsight. He'd always thought Ander seemed less lonely during the war when he broke regulations and spent time with his troops. He'd had other enlisted friends too, not just Ralf. Only there'd always been that divide. They'd still called him sir more often than not. Ralf still did sometimes, though now it wasn't just Ander who teased him about it. No one else here called him sir, or mister, even ones Ralf knew he ranked. Being around people helped Ander relax. When he was drunk, he'd swing an arm around whoever was close. Sometimes that was Ralf. It made him think of that one time, when he'd been hurt and Ander had spent the night holding him, keeping him warm, and all the rest that had happened. It was a confusing memory, but still Ralf didn't mind. If anyone else had touched him like that, he might have minded a whole lot.

He liked other people in the Mala Tajna okay, and the work was fine, but it wasn't really why he was there. With Ander, though, it was easy to see he cared. He cared about how House Rat was treated. He wanted to make things better. If you just listened to Ander, you'd think that was all the Mala Tajna was about. Ralf could tell not everyone bought into the ideals though – some people just liked the power, or the money. Or they liked to be outside the law, and all the things that let them get away with. Ralf could understand that too, but he liked to listen to Ander. That was another thing that was different. In the war, Ander had done his best to keep people alive. He'd followed orders and done his job. But he hadn't really cared about the war, or about Psyra. He wasn't real keen on the slicks, but Ralf figured that if they hadn't been shooting at him, or at people under his command, he wouldn’t have cared about them either. Listening to Ander talk made Ralf realize how little he knew about why things were the way they were. Now he figured that if anyone had a shot at fixing things at all, maybe it was Ander. Ralf knew what he was capable of.

Ander made time for him. It kept Ralf from feeling too much like a stray dog following him around all the time. He made time for other people too, but some of that was business. With him, it was personal. People started to see them as a unit, to expect the other when one was around. People who were looking for Ander checked with him. Sometimes it happened the other way around, but not often. They were friends. They'd been through things together. Ander trusted him. They trusted each other, and that felt rare, to Ralf, and special.

They started spending time alone as well, not just at the Cellar waiting to see who else might drop in. It started small – Ander stepping out to pick out some smokes, asking Ralf if he was coming with. Of course Ralf went. Sometimes they'd chat – picking up whatever conversation had been going on in the pub. Ander was chatty, and Ralf liked to listen to him. Sometimes he'd be quiet, and Ralf would just watch him be lost in thought, wondering what he was thinking about. Sometimes he'd ask, just to see Ander smile, even if he didn't always really answer straight. Ander smiled a lot more these days, but Ralf never got tired of it, especially when Ander smiled at him.

A big part of Ander's job was just to be seen, to be easy to find. He started hanging around in different taverns and bars in the evenings, not just The Cellar. A lot of the people he talked to were criminals from outside the Mala Tajna – the Corriveaux or the Nhau'kel or smaller bit players. They traded favours and did business. Ander found someone else to go with him – a kid named Denise – as protection. He said she was a good kid, that she needed the money, that she was a solid fighter who didn't need weapons. That she was almost like a little sister, maybe. Ralf went along a few times just to see what she was like. She saw Ander as some kind of hero, and she could fight in ways that wouldn't cause so much trouble as flashing a pair of blades and sticking someone in the middle of a crowded room and leaving some stiff behind, so maybe that was okay. Ralf still wished it was him, on the books, but he wasn't going to stop looking out for Ander just because it wasn't his job. Ralf tagged along anyway when he didn't have other work. Ander seemed pleased. The kid didn't even question it. If anyone else did, they never said anything to his face.

It was just so natural that first time when they were walking home and Ander invited him up for a drink. They'd been standing on the corner talking, not wanting to go their separate ways, so why should they? Ralf was curious what his place was like, even though he knew it wasn't something he'd picked for himself. Ander's mother had set it up for him so he'd have somewhere to stay when he came back. Probably he'd have been happy to stay at home – not to be alone – but it seemed right to Ralf that a guy like him should have his own pad. 

The building was pretty nice – new, but not one of those super posh places either. He had a bedroom separate from the living room, electric lights, and a bathroom with a shower in it. Ralf didn't see the bedroom. They sat in the living room, and Ander got them drinks and they talked and listened to the radio until it was very early. Like on the armistice day, Ralf hadn't been sure what to expect, or what he wanted, but he left happy, and more or less satisfied. 

It was easy to let it become a habit.

Then one night it was raining. Ralf had debated making a run for it, trying to get home without getting soaked. But Ander's place was closer, and they could catch a cab from the club. The streets where Ralf lived were no good for cars, though, so he'd have to walk. He went to Ander's, thinking maybe it would stop raining at some point, but it didn't let up.

That was when Ander told him he could stay, if he wanted. Ralf could smell his nerves, and he'd never had the nose that some Rats had. He wouldn't clarify right away when Ralf asked if he meant on the couch. Ralf was thinking about the cave again, about Ander holding him, about bringing Ander's hand down to his hard cock and not knowing what he was doing, but knowing when Ander'd asked if he was sure that yes, he very much had been. He remembered how Ander'd smelled then too – still nervous. Ander hadn't asked for anything in return – he'd said he wasn't interested in sex, that he didn't like it or something bizarre. They'd never talked about it again. Nothing had ever happened.

Eventually Ander told him that he didn't have to take the couch, if he didn't want to, that he wasn't going to try anything Ralf didn't wanna try. It sounded.... just right, even if neither of them seemed to know just what they did want, or maybe they (he) were too nervous to be honest about it. It was a warm night, and the window was open. It was the first time he'd seen Ander's bedroom – it was pretty sparse, not much more there than the few pictures he'd had during the war, just better framed. They'd been talking about the war earlier, about how it still seemed like this was all a dream, or a mistake, and they would have to go back any time. It made it seem all the more important when they curled up together, even if they still had their shorts and undershirts on. Ander's arms around him made it feel more real though, like maybe they really were past all that. It felt good.

Very good. 

Ralf didn't understand. The thought of being with a guy didn’t interest him. It was uncomfortable – made him think about things he'd rather forget. Maybe it was knowing what Ander didn’t want, but probably it was just that it was Ander. Just being around him made Ralf feel things that were usually beyond him. Ander liked him, trusted him, even respected him. They'd kept each other alive during the war. Maybe it was just that his dick didn't know what to do with all of that, when they were so close. Probably the kissing didn't help though. Not even on the lips – Ander didn’t like that either – just along his shoulder, his throat, while Ander gently stroked his back.

Ander told him that was okay. It was better this time – he wasn't hurt, the bed was way more comfortable than lying on his jacket in the dark, and he didn't feel like he had to rush. He didn't get how a dry handjob could feel so great, but it did, it felt amazing, coming all over Ander's hand... over his shorts too. At least they mostly kept it off the bed. 

After was great too. Ralf wasn't the type to stick around after sex, not usually. But even if it hadn't still been raining, if he hadn't already agreed to stay.... he didn't want to go. They both got cleaned up and they lay back down together (Ander in a clean pair of shorts). And they just lay together, talking. Telling each other things they maybe didn't talk about with anyone else. Neither of them knew what they were doing, but that was okay. Between the two of them, they could figure out anything.


End file.
